Inori returned to the clearing where the fight had begun — where she'd undressed. The kimono was a little muddy, a seam pulled open in one place. It didn't matter. This garment meant something. Someone who had cared about her had given it to her. It was important.
Even stuck in this embarrassing, barely-there feather ensemble, she could put the kimono over everything and hide the whole situation underneath. Getting the feathers to lie flat took effort, but she'd been dressing herself every day during her time at the Butterfly Mansion — the process was familiar enough.
She dressed slowly, tying the knot at her waist and checking the tension. One remaining problem: no shoes. The goldfish outfit had come with low heels matched to the black stockings — footwear had simply never come up.
Inori gazed down at her bare feet. In the darkness they looked unreasonably pale, almost luminous — ten small toes tilted slightly upward, each with a faint, delicate pink at the tips. She appeared to be standing on the ground. She was, in fact, hovering just above it.
The levitation was constant so long as she wanted it. She could plant her feet on solid earth at any moment. Only, knowing she could float freely — she couldn't help wondering whether this new form might carry her toward something like Kars's state, the Ultimate Lifeform...
She let the thought go. She had everything she needed right now. The only genuine inconvenience was not being able to change outfits.
—Fine. No shoes — I'll just float. It's comfortable enough. Though I'll still need to make myself walk sometimes. Otherwise when I turn human again, my legs won't know what to do. Muscle atrophy is real.
Light, sparse footsteps approached — as soft as they were, each one prickled at her ears the way a mosquito's wings do. Inori's brow lifted.
She'd forgotten about Muzan's two attendants.
"Oh~" The pink-haired girl in her red-and-black kimono turned, bare feet motionless in the air, her whole frame deceptively balanced. "You're still here."
"You killed... Muzan-sama."
The red-haired man — Upper Rank Three, Akaza — couldn't hold it back. Fine beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead. He spoke the way someone speaks when fear has made them very careful about every word.
"Yes."
Inori nodded without denying it. A trace of something like sympathy settled into those soft red eyes.
"What is it? You didn't lift a finger to save your boss just now — so are you here to avenge him?"
"I'd like to. If I could."
Akaza's fists clenched hard. He answered that coldly, then shot a wary glance at Doma.
"But I'll admit — I'm not your match. Even if Doma and I came at you together, the result wouldn't change."
"True enough."
By Inori's read, Akaza's blunt character left little room for deception. He and Doma had watched the entire fight. These two were at the apex of demonkind, and yet Muzan's true power had dwarfed them both.
Muzan had lost. To her. Any demon with sense would understand when not to push their luck.
"You're both smarter than I expected. Since you're not looking for trouble, I won't start any."
"Go. And don't let me see you again."
"We won't be going."
Doma — Upper Rank Two, the blond one, the iridescent eyes — smiled and folded the gold iron fan that had been covering half his face. Then he did something that made very little sense: he dropped to one knee and bowed with the precise, formal deference of a vassal swearing fealty.
"Inori-sama. Please become our new ruler."
"...Huh?"
Inori was fairly certain she was thinking clearly. The ones who weren't were these two demons. She had never remotely expected this. Most demons wouldn't have the nerve.
—Your boss barely has time to cool off and you're already kneeling for his killer?
—A model of loyalty, truly.
"Akaza-dono. Quickly."
Doma, kneeling, smiled and shot the tattooed red-haired man a crafty look. Akaza went rigid — his every movement broadcasting how much his pride hated this. But it was a decision they had arrived at together.
The stubbornness in Akaza's eyes receded. Stiffly, jerkily, he lowered himself to one knee — and pledged his allegiance to their new queen.
...
...
Neither Doma nor Akaza had ever understood why Kibutsuji Muzan had brought them to witness this fight. If the pink-haired girl didn't know her place, the obvious answer was to eliminate her — why did he need to handle it personally?
After seeing both sides reveal their full power, that question dissolved entirely. It wasn't only their master's true demon form that had been extraordinary — even Inori's abilities were strange and hard to read. The sparks struck between the two had left both Upper Rank demons in stunned, captivated awe.
This is what true strength looks like.
The outcome was unexpected. And yet, somehow, inevitable.
The scarlet blood monster Inori had released had beaten their invincible Muzan-sama to a bloody, mangled ruin, right there under the moon.
Everything happened in an instant. Neither of them could react. And stranger still — Kibutsuji Muzan had never used that ability of his, the one that let him commune with demons through the blood. He had never sent a call for help.
"Muzan-sama!!"
Akaza broke. He tried to accelerate toward Muzan — but Doma's arm shot out.
"Wait, Akaza-dono."
"What are you doing?"
Akaza glared at him.
"Muzan-sama is dead. Can't you feel it?"
Doma's smile was gone, for once. His expression had turned careful, precise.
The reminder worked. Akaza steadied. And it was true — that presence that had always coiled through their bodies, so thoroughly woven into them it had become part of their flesh, was gone.
Kibutsuji Muzan was the absolute master of demonkind. He gave his blood to humans, turning them into demons, and could commune with them within range — reading thoughts, sending commands. Even when a demon was somewhere remote and unknown, this power let him locate them. In normal times, this ability barely made itself felt to his demons — but with it present, no demon could escape his surveillance. Except, perhaps, a demon too weak to register, or one who had used special countermeasures.
But now, the curse chain was gone. They were no longer under Kibutsuji Muzan's control.
Free.
"There's no reason to die for a man who's already dead."
Doma patted Akaza's sturdy shoulder, smile returning.
"Inori beat Muzan. That makes her more worth following than he was. Aren't you someone who only ever acknowledges real strength? Akaza-dono."
"..."
Akaza's gaze drifted past Doma into the empty night sky. He said nothing.
Strength had been his creed from the moment he lost his human memories — a demon without a past had nothing to give his existence meaning except the relentless pursuit of power. But he also carried the pride that came with being strong. That pride did not permit him to prostrate himself before the one who had killed his master and call her his new lord — not while the body was still warm. It was the kind of betrayal that had a name, and the name tasted foul.
Doma had no such complications. He felt nothing — no mourning, no conflict. He had watched Inori in action and recognized the arithmetic without friction. This was simply how things were.
And Kibutsuji Muzan had never been worth mourning. Violent, capricious, merciless with humans, worse with any demon who displeased him. No demon followed Muzan out of respect — most simply feared him. As the Progenitor of Demons, he had held the power to seal another demon's Blood Demon Art and immortality at will. He ruled entirely through terror. That was Demon King Muzan.
That master was gone. In his place: a fresh, delicious young girl — Doma's thoughts turned the phrase over with the detached appreciation of a predator assessing prey — with limitless potential. And there was something particularly enjoyable about cultivating someone like that: shaping them, guiding them, watching them grow into power. Keep her pleased. Let her taste what it felt like to hold real authority. Eventually she would be willing to share her blood with them. And then the Upper Rank demons could break through their own limits and reach entirely new heights.